There was a hunger about him. She didn’t know what he craved but she could sense it, as if he weren’t complete. The way his gaze was appraising her, like he was now, made her wonder if it was something he thought she could satiate.
She wasn’t exactly sure what she’d expected Lars to be like. Just because he was an enemy of Malokin’s, one of the crazy psychopaths who’d abducted her, didn’t mean he would be an ally of hers or that he’d be the opposite, a sweet and kind man. But she’d hardly been thinking logically in the last week, let alone in the five minutes she’d had to make her decision before she’d dashed out of that hotel room the first opportunity she’d had.
He stopped moving and settled into a spot several feet in front of her, between her and the front door. Feet spread, arms loose at his sides, he looked as if she’d need a bulldozer to move him out of her way. She turned her head, looking to see if there was a back exit if need be.
“You came to me. You aren’t leaving without telling me who you are,” he said, in response to her darting eyes, taking another step closer.
She didn’t move again. If she ran now, she feared she’d be tackled on the way to a door she’d never make it out of there.
“I’ll leave whenever I’m ready to,” she said.
“Sure,” he mocked. A short exhale of breath with a slight noise that might have been the beginning of laughter showed he didn’t believe that was possible.
She let it go, knowing her mouth had run ahead of her brain like it occasionally did. It would be idiotic to push this situation into an unnecessary conflict. She needed his help. She had to keep that paramount in her mind and be nice, even if it killed her.
“Who are you?” he asked again, impatience leaking into his tone and transforming his posture into something slightly more threatening.
She’d made a choice to come here. Time to hope it was the right one, because she didn’t think there’d be any do overs.
“I don’t know,” Faith answered and realized as bizarre as it sounded, it was true. She’d known who she was a week ago but not anymore. If she looked up her full name, Faith Dover, on the web, she was fairly certain she’d find an obituary for someone who bore no resemblance to the person she looked like now.
“You better come up with something better than that. Usually when I meet people who aren’t human, and I don’t know them, I kill them. Take the opportunity I’m giving you to explain before I get tired of waiting.”
He took another step forward until he was only a foot away, and a tremor ran through her that she hoped he didn’t notice. He was definitely impatient. She had a feeling he wasn’t the type to naturally run long on that attribute anyway. She’d never been easily intimidated but dying seemed to have unsettled her composure a bit.
Maybe she should’ve gone to the second name on the list, someone named Fate, but this place had been closer. She had to believe that the five miles between this location and the next address didn’t mean the difference between life and… Could you even kill a dead girl?
She watched as he stood in front of her and realized that, good or bad, the choice was out of her hands, for now anyway. She was here, and her second and third choices were no longer available. Might as well lay it all out on the table. And come to think of it, she had already died once this week and come out of that intact. If he did kill her, maybe she’d just keep coming back?
“I really don’t know anymore. I can tell you who I used to be.” She watched his face, waiting to see what reaction he would have. There was none.
“Keep talking.” He didn’t retreat or continue forward, the only movement was to cross his arms, showing off the striated muscles of his forearms. The gesture worked against physics and somehow made him look larger.
She thought of how to explain all that had happened, not sure how to tell him the chaotic events that had occurred. He was going to think she was insane. What if she told him and he called someone from the loony bin to come and get her?
She did a mental shake of her head as she appraised him. No. Chain her up in a basement? Maybe. Call the cops or an ambulance? She’d bet no on that one.
“Talk.” He leaned forward as he said it. If she didn’t start giving him what he wanted, he’d be on top of her soon.
The buildup of frayed nerves took over and she decided to run with the situation as she started babbling it all out, without a thought to what was being said. “I was running an art show in my gallery in Seattle, and I went outside to go get my phone. It was dead, and I wanted to charge it, but I didn’t have a cord in my office because I lent it to a friend the day before, and so I only had a car charger and I hate not having a phone and there was no—”
“I get it. You went outside.” He made a rolling motion with his hand so close to her it caused a few strands of blonde hair to sway. His eyebrows rose slightly. “Then what?”
And here came the ugly part she didn’t like to think of, let alone have to explain to someone. “There was a sharp pain. Someone stabbing me, I think, but I’m not sure because I couldn’t find any wounds and I still can’t, and then I was somewhere else entirely and it wasn’t Seattle anymore, and I didn’t look like me. There was this guy who said I was dead and I had to work for him, and I think I’m having a psychotic break because none of this makes any sense, but he had your name on a list of threats and I made a run for it—”
“What was his name?” His words cut through hers, startling her out of her rambling.
“Who?” Faith didn’t care that he kept cutting her off. She wasn’t sure anything coming out of her mouth was making sense anyway. It didn’t sound plausible to her and she’d just lived through every horrifying second of it. Maybe she should’ve gone to the cops, but if it were true…if she was dead, and all the things that had happened to her were accurate, what would the cops do?
She didn’t look like herself anymore; she had no proof that she was who she said. She’d definitely end up in a psych ward for sure, locked up like a sitting duck for that psycho to come and pluck her up, pretending to be a relative or something. No; Lars, as intimidating as he looked, was still the better choice.
She looked at him with that thought in mind. Boy, she might really be fucked if he was it, though. She had a feeling the odds were really low on him having a Good Samaritan plaque hanging in the back somewhere.
“The one who wanted you to work for him?” His voice was calm as he reminded her that he was still waiting for an answer, and somehow she heard the weight of the question he’d just put to her. She had a feeling he was already suspecting the name she was about to give but she wasn’t sure if it would be a good or bad thing.
She looked around, as if just uttering his name would somehow make it possible for him to find her here, and then decided she’d probably read too many Harry Potter novels. She cleared her throat, trying to get rid of the hitch she knew would be there, and forced the name out anyway. If Harry could do it, so could she! “Malokin.”
She flinched as he suddenly went from almost perfectly still to a movement so fast it blurred. His arms unlocked and his fist slammed into the nearest counter, splitting the wood and dislodging everything upon it in the process and she was glad she hadn’t mentioned the other one who’d wanted her.
Faith nearly tripped in her effort to move farther away from him. He didn’t seem to notice as he let out a string of curses. She backed up until the wall was at her back and prayed to a god she was fairly certain had forsaken her that she hadn’t made a huge mistake. Then she remembered that she was an atheist. Oh yeah, she was screwed for sure.
Chapter Two